


Yes Women

by katmarajade



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Episode: s01e15 Yes Men, Gen, Missing Scene, Post-Episode: s01e15 Yes Men, Sparring
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-03
Updated: 2014-05-03
Packaged: 2018-01-21 18:58:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,601
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1560662
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/katmarajade/pseuds/katmarajade
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After Lorelei is captured, May heads to the training room to blow off some steam and get her emotions in check. Lady Sif shows up wanting to talk, but May would rather fight. </p>
<p>Takes place during Yes Men: after Lorelei is captured and before the May/Ward scene in the cockpit.<br/>Spoilers through Yes Men, plus many unsubtly hinted at spoilers for later episodes (through 20 at least) and CA2.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Yes Women

**Author's Note:**

  * For [justhuman](https://archiveofourown.org/users/justhuman/gifts).



> JustHuman, I really wanted to write you that Maria & May piece you wanted, but the show would not cooperate (only bringing Maria back last week ... too late in the game for me to use.) I hope you like this character piece on Melinda May. I tried to avoid the Cavalry stuff and focus more on her character during the series and how she changes between this episode (15) and the next. (Like that huge grin on her face when she drags FitzSimmons up to celebrate with Skye in ep 16?)

The hits landed heavily, coming ever faster and more furious, against the punching bag. For May, the simplest way to regain emotional balance was to assert control. In the training room, she was always in control, and she always wielded the power. 

Some liked to believe that May didn't _have_ any emotions, but that was ridiculous. She felt everything as intensely as any other person. What set her apart was her ability to master her responses. For as much as she hated her _Cavalry_ nickname, she also liked the power it gave her over others. Unlike many of them, she understood that power wasn't something you innately possessed. It was something bestowed upon you by others, often unconsciously. 

She loved having that power.

As a child, she'd been as powerless as any other little girl. She'd grown up in a quiet Pennsylvania suburb with loving, workaholic parents who demanded the best from their only daughter. For years she'd tried to achieve greatness. She excelled in the classroom and on the athletic field. Her exceptional grades, her academic and athletic awards, her black belt, her scholarships, none of them made a difference. 

One day she'd discovered, partly due to her own investigative skills and partly due to dumb luck, that her mother was not, in fact, middle management at a large political law office; she was an agent in a super secret government intelligence agency. There was a slight glimmer of fear in her mother's eyes when May told her, and, for the first time, she understood what it was to have real power. 

You gained power when someone respected you, when someone feared you, or when someone considered you more powerful than they were. There were other ways, of course, but these were the three that May knew most intimately. 

After what had happened today, she didn't feel powerful. She felt weak and hurt and petty. 

And angry, so angry. 

The anger was consuming and fractured; it took all her energy to maintain her cool in front of her team. 

She was angry at Lorelei for coming to the planet and screwing everything up. 

She was angry at Ward for being stupid enough to let himself be touched in the first place, because he should have _known_ better. Some small part of her had really believed that he wouldn't go that far, that even in his lust-addled, Lorelei-obsessed mind he wouldn't actually try to kill her. Incapacitate her, knock her out, sure. But shoot her in the head at point blank range? She didn't doubt Lorelei's power, but she also had truly not believed that Ward wasn't capable of fighting it, at least a little. 

After all that extensive S.H.I.E.L.D. training about withstanding torture and mind control, she'd honestly believed that he would hold onto a small part of himself. That he would still know his team, that he would still have lines he would not cross, that he would remember where his deepest loyalties lay. 

The Ward she thought she knew was not capable of shooting a person, especially one he'd once considered part of his team, in the head without so much as a blink. There was darkness in him, sure. There was darkness in all of them. You couldn't be a specialist without embracing that part of yourself. Maybe she'd lost her edge, lost her darkness.

She'd been wrong. Either he wasn't the man she'd thought he was, or she had underestimated Lorelei's power. 

She'd thought that her team had more power than one rogue Asgardian who magically sweet-talked men into doing her bidding. She'd been convinced that _she_ had power. Now, as her fists slammed into the worn leather, she knew her own arrogance. Lorelei and Lady Sif had power, and it wasn't only their Asgardian strength that gave it to them. 

They were respected. They were feared. 

She'd helped _give_ them power. That knowledge rose bitter in the back of her throat as she spun furiously, her kick landing with a shuddering impact that would have knocked the wind from even the strongest human. 

"You possess great skill." 

May stilled the quivering bag, wiped the sweat from her forehead, and turned to look at Lady Sif.

"What are you doing here?" she asked flatly, irritated at her lack of self-control when she heard the sullenness in her tone.

Sif gave May a long look. "It is not merely men over whom Lorelei seeks dominion. She cannot control women with her voice or touch, but she possesses other abilities. She sees deep within, all the parts of which we dare not speak. She does not hesitate to use that."

"She didn't hurt me."

Sif picked up a training mace, spinning the heavy weapon in her hand distractedly. "She hurt me," she finally admitted.

"You mentioned that," May said, curious despite herself. 

"Long ago, Lorelei entranced my lover and sent him to destroy me. I defeated him and imprisoned him until she could be stopped and her enchantment broken. I entrusted a friend to guard him. She broke into Odin's Palace, slayed four guards, and released Haldorr from his confinement only to kill him. I believe his death was to spite me for foiling her plans, for she rarely sacrifices her chosen without reason. She sees weakness and preys upon it. Haldorr was mine."

"Well, she chose the wrong weakness for me," muttered May, eyeing her punching bag longingly. 

"Perhaps. But she has angered you. She often strikes vulnerabilities unknown, and she plays a cunning game, we know not how." So Asgardians _didn't_ know everything. "Once, you told me you prefer to use your hands. Would you care to battle flesh rather than this trembling leather pouch?"

May shot her a scoffing look, but Lady Sif showed no sign of mockery. The Asgardian set aside her double-bladed sword and shield, and slowly began unfastening her metal armor. Once she shed the tough outer shell, she faced May, arms hanging loosely by her sides, palms out, and fixed her with look: part taunting, part encouraging. 

It wasn't a fight she could win; May knew that. She was sure Lady Sif knew it, too. But it was one she needed. Perhaps she wanted a chance to lash out at an Asgardian, a replacement for the one she really wanted to hurt. Perhaps she blamed Lady Sif, vaunted warrior of Asgard, for not stopping Lorelei sooner. Perhaps she was just itching for a good fight. May wasn't sure and, to be honest, she didn't really care. 

Stepping back and rolling her shoulders to loosen them, she nodded. Knowing she was the underdog, May considered it fair play to throw the first punch. So she did. 

They fought for twenty minutes, a chaotic swirl of flying fists and feet. The hand to hand combat was a far better outlet than the punching bag had been. It was freeing, May thought, to fight Lady Sif, knowing that she couldn't hurt an Asgardian. She let herself go, hurling herself into every hit, every kick, every spin.

Ultimately, Lady Sif won the match, pinning May to the ground. Breathing heavily, May stared up at her sparring partner, satisfied to see the sweat on Lady Sif's brow, proof that May had proved a worthy opponent to the goddess of war. May was glad she'd lost; it would have been an insult if Lady Sif had allowed her to win. 

"You are a true warrior, Melinda May of S.H.I.E.L.D., and it has been an honor to battle with you."

For a brief moment, May felt like arguing, pointing out how unmatched they were, but she swallowed her petulance and accepted the praise. This warrior offered her respect and honor, even though May was demonstrably weaker. Unprompted, unforced, she _meant_ it. 

Lady Sif extended a hand, which May ignored, rising gracefully on her own and earning a knowing, impressed smirk.

"I leave this realm in good hands. Thank you for your aid in my quest." Lady Sif nodded regally, and May uncomfortably responded in turn.

"Thank you," May added, "for your help. We couldn't have defeated her without you." _Probably_ couldn't have, at least, but it seemed the polite thing to say under the circumstances. 

"I wish only that I could have stopped her sooner. She leaves a broken and bitter trail."

Once Lady Sif donned her armor again, they walked in silence to the interrogation room where Simmons was examining Lorelei under Coulson's watchful eye. After the Asgardian women departed, May returned to the cockpit, her private office and safe haven, to think.

Power.

For years she'd desperately yearned for it. She had gone out of her way to amass useful skills and had moved steadily up the chain of command. She'd fought and destroyed—all in the name of "good" and they feared her. When she'd gone too far, she'd retreated, terse and detached, and somehow they'd only feared her more. She'd become a legend at S.H.I.E.L.D. and, by the standards she'd set herself, she had more power than her younger self had ever dreamed. 

But maybe her standards needed revising. Perhaps true power was not measured by strength, respect, and fear. Perhaps real power meant lowering her shields. How many weeks had she spent on the Bus with her team? How much of her knowledge of any of them was based on actual interactions and not just what was in their files? 

She'd prided herself on keeping things professional with Ward. She'd assured herself that she had held the power, she was the one who could walk away, she was the one who would never get hurt. 

She hadn't been wrong, but maybe she was looking at it the wrong way. Despite truly believing that Ward could fight the thrall of Lorelei, she'd been cautious. Before he'd even had the chance to pull the trigger, she'd been a step ahead, already having emptied the cartridge. She was alive because she was clever and the better fighter. 

When she'd been a young woman, she'd wanted to be considered powerful by others. She'd truly believed that others thinking she had power would _give_ it to her, but that was only partly true. 

She wasn't alive right now because of anyone else's belief in her abilities. She was alive because she knew how to survive, how to take care of herself—and her team. They respected her, and most of them even feared her. But was that what she wanted?

It had been. Her primary reason for taking this assignment had been simple: protect Coulson. (Though the opportunity to pilot one of the coolest aircraft in existence was also a draw, if she was being honest.) At the time, she'd vowed to remain aloof, not get involved with the day-to-day lives of the team, not to get distracted. The rest of the team was there for a purpose, though none of them knew the real reason they'd been given this assignment. With any luck, they would never have to find out. 

Her choice to get back into the field—really get back into it, not just drive the Bus and watch from afar—had not been solely for Coulson, who was still the best man she'd ever known. No, she'd wanted to protect the team—the whole team. Fitz with his adorably earnest expressions, genius toys, and the way he spoke faster and his accent grew stronger whenever he was babbling about something he found interesting. Simmons with her safety glasses, endearing enthusiasm, and complete inability to lie about anything. Skye with her impressive pluckiness, sly humor, intriguing background, and fierce loyalty. Ward, the loyal soldier whose icy demeanor was matched only by hers, who jumped out of a plane to save a colleague but was too scared to make friends. 

They were strange and annoying and constantly getting into trouble, but they were her team. She protected them now with the same drive she defended Coulson; she _cared_ about them. 

It wasn't the first time she'd realized how much she cared about her team, but it was the first time she realized how much she wanted—needed?—them to care about her. If Ward had managed to kill her (unlikely but not impossible) or if Lorelei had chosen to fight her, May would have died a hero. Respected. Honored. Feared. Loved the way distant leaders were loved—adored for their deeds and the legends told about them but not truly _known_. 

She stared out the window, appreciating once again how her "office" had the best view in the world. Thick gray clouds formed a hazy, uneven blanket beneath them as the last vestiges of twilight faded into night. 

Whether she'd intended to or not, she'd become emotionally involved with her team. For the first time she could remember, she didn't consider that a bad thing. But it changed everything. 

For one, she needed to show her team that she liked them. Coulson knew she cared, because he knew her before, but the rest of them? She'd make a point of reaching out to the others, especially FitzSimmons and Skye, who seemed intimidated by her. She had to _smile_ , she told herself sternly. It had been a long time since she'd really smiled—not just an amused smirk or an approving nod—too long. They deserved it, deserved to know that she cared and that she respected them. 

That didn't mean she would stop protecting them, shirk her responsibilities, or start having giggling slumber parties with Skye and Simmons, but she should make an effort. Too long she'd been "The Cavalry," unapproachable and fearsome. It was time to show them she was more than an emotionless warrior. And it was time to prove to herself that power could also be found in love, in family, and in teamwork—and that it should be explored. 

Secondly, she could no longer sleep with Ward. The sex had been a convenient outlet, but it couldn't continue. It wasn't that she was in love with him—she wasn't. It wasn't even that she was hurt by Lorelei's revelation that Ward had desired Skye all along. That part she'd suspected, though the insinuation that she was a stand-in for the one he couldn't have had twinged a bit. Now, having had the opportunity to clear her head and think about everything, she could assure herself that that momentary hurt hadn't meant something deep or meaningful. A tiny blip of an emotional response to a taunt like that was only natural. Contrary to popular belief, she did have normal, human reactions to things; she just hid most of them well. 

She was emotionally invested now. He was part of her team. True, he had been so before, but they'd both been so personally detached from the job that she hadn't considered it a conflict of interest. When he came to apologize, which she knew that he soon would, she would end it. He was not only a team member and a brother-in-arms, but he might even be a friend. (Maybe—she wasn't going to get ahead of herself.) A friend who'd tried to kill her while under alien mind control, true, but she supposed agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. couldn't be that picky. 

The cloud-hidden world passed below her and she watched, waiting for the first hint of dawn to tint the horizon and bring the new day. When the tentative knock came, she gestured for him to sit down. She was ready for a change.


End file.
